Vicious (Sinners of Saint #1)(90)

Too bad for her.

In Manhattan I checked into another hotel and didn’t even bother unpacking this time. All the utilitarian rooms blurred into one another. Hotels poisoned the soul. Lucky for me, mine was already tarnished.

After a quick shower and a shave, I decided it was past time Emilia explained herself. I went to Dean’s building and waltzed in, using his electronic key. I knocked on her door three times and paced the hallway outside her apartment, raking my fingers through my hair.

Nothing.

I knocked again, this time banging my fist against her door. “For fuck’s sake! The least you can do is face me in person. I’m still your boss!”

Just as I finished the sentence, the door flung open, and Rosie stood on the other side.

“Where’s your sister?” I felt my jaw ticking.

She hugged the door, her chin stuck out. “Actually, I didn’t open the door to answer your stupid questions. I opened the door to tell you that you’re not, in fact, my sister’s boss anymore. She found a new job. We’re moving out on Sunday. Thanks for nothing, douche.” She smiled sweetly and tried to slam the door in my face.

I had to shove my foot between the door and the frame, just like I’d done the first time I came to see Emilia. The LeBlanc sisters definitely didn’t like my presence.

“Where is she?” I repeated. I didn’t believe Rosie about the new job. This wasn’t happening. She wouldn’t have given up her high-paying job at FHH…would she?

Fuck. Of course she would. This was Emilia.

“No,” Rosie said. “She doesn’t want to see you anymore. First, you make her break up with her boyfriend and force her to leave California…” She trailed off, awarding me with one of her infamous go-fuck-yourself stares. Her voice dropped an octave. “Then ten years later, you sleep with her in his bed. Whatever revenge tour you’re on, she doesn’t want any part of it.”

Shit. She knew about Dean.

But I knew Rosie wasn’t talking about the real revenge I was after, with Jo. That was a good sign. Emilia had kept my secrets.

I shouldered my way into their apartment, scanning it for her. She wasn’t in the living room, but endless cardboard boxes were, and they were already sealed and ready to be moved elsewhere.

Rosie wasn’t lying.

Not about moving away and probably not about Emilia finding another job.

“I need to talk to her,” I said.

Rosie shook her head. “Vicious, please. She’ll never admit it, but I can tell she cares about you. Too much. And if there’s even the smallest slice of goodness in you, you’ll leave her alone. You guys are toxic together, and you know it.”

“That’s bullshit,” I fumed. “We’re not toxic together.”

Though I knew she was right. I was missing a few pieces. A few chips I needed in order to be able to love like a normal person does. That’s why I liked breaking things, and why I especially enjoyed breaking Emilia. She was the purest thing I’d ever met.

“Where is she?” I asked again, not making a move. I wasn’t going to leave until she told me, and I think she knew it too. “Where’s your sister? I need to speak to her. We can do this shit for hours, and I still won’t stop asking until you give me an answer.”

Rosie looked down. “She’s gone to an open gallery night by the Hudson. The Height of Fire exhibition. She starts work at a gallery there on Monday. A woman she sold a painting to who used to work at Saatchi really loves her work and…”

I didn’t give a fuck about the rest. I just turned around and stalked for the door, but Rosie jumped on me like a little ninja, clasping her hands around my midsection. I spun around, staring at her coldly. She winced, as almost everyone did when I used that look on them.

Everyone but Emilia.

“Please don’t, Vicious. She’s the strongest link in our family. She takes care of me. She is the reason my parents go to sleep at night trusting that we’re okay in New York. You can’t weaken her. She is our wall.”

I shook my head and left.

Like the fucking wrecking ball I was.





THE NIGHT WAS RAINY AND cold, almost cold enough for snow but not quite. I was glad for the coat I’d invested in with Vicious’s money. I didn’t even feel guilty.

My new boss, Brent, a man in his late thirties, lived near the apartment we were about to vacate, so we’d shared a cab and then had a quick drink while he filled me in on what to expect at the exhibit.

My new job at the gallery was just an internship, and the pay was awful, but when Rosie saw the look on my face, she’d basically forced me to say yes. My baby sister was feeling much better and was picking up her old job as a barista once we moved. A job where the tips were great, and the owner was flexible with the hours she could work.